Cold Feelings
by OneTurnOuttaTune
Summary: A short fic, based on a song, of what Snape goes through the night after GoF ends. More mental torment for everyone's favorite Potions Master.Rated for dark themes.


Cold Feelings  
A ficlet by OneTurnOuttaTune  
  
*A/N* The idea for this story, like almost all of my stories, came whilst listening to music. In this case it's the song   
"Cold Feelings" by the infamous Social Distortion. It will be classified as a song fic, and resembles the first chapter of  
my story "The Revenant" a bit. More over, it's just me tormenting Snape again. Please review, as all other writers know   
the inspiration comes on it's own, but the drive comes from other peoples' pleasure at reading their work. Thank you for   
allowing me to take over this bit of your time. I hope you enjoy reading it as I did writing it.  
  
  
-Uninvited feelings, they come without a warning and they stay too long,  
I don't wanna feel, and if I run they'll be twice as strong...-  
  
Severus Snape, the respected if feared Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry paced in his   
chambers. Here was where he did his grading, his reading, his lesson-planning, and most of all his thinking. It was his   
sanctuary, his single solitary place in this twisted world that had turned it's back on him.   
While he should be a man respected for his work in Potions, respected for the teaching position he held, he was not.   
He may have been respected, but if he was it was only by one person. That person was definately not him. It was Albus   
Dumbledore, the man who gave Severus a second chance after turning to the dark ways and serving the Dark Lord, Voldemort.   
When Harry Potter brought about the downfall of this dark wizard nearly 14 years ago, Severus had entertained the idea that   
maybe the dark chapter of his life had been closed, and he could now become the respected man he should have been all along.   
This was not to be.  
Severus wished desperately that Harry was wrong, of course, but he wasn't. The Dark Mark had returned to it's place  
on his own left forearm, along with the pain of memories that it was the cause of.  
He had killed, he had raped, he had tortured. While Severus couldn't say that he hadn't enjoyed it at first - who   
doesn't enjoy their first taste of power? - he still remembered every face of every victim. Pleading eyes, mouths open in   
painful screams or just plain disbelief. Sometimes, he mused to himself, it doesn't matter how much you scream or plead -   
if whatever is torturing you relents, it's not because it cares. He wished to be relieved of this torture, but his was not   
relented. While a death, even a slow and painful one, would have been easier, Severus was forced to live a life of painful   
memories, viewed as a spiteful, critical and malicious man. It was not a lie, this is what he'd become.  
He was not only bitter about his past. He was cruel to his students because, in his mind, he was preparing them for   
the bitterness of the world. Not everyone was as kind, understanding and forgiving as their headmaster. He played the role   
of the bad guy, but it was not necessarily one he enjoyed.  
  
-I'm waiting, waiting for some kind of a sign,  
I try to seperate, try to seperate my body from my mind...-  
  
Now that Voldemort was back, Severus knew he would be called again. It had happened during the TriWizard Tournament   
(which had somehow become the QuadWizard Tournament) but he didn't go. He was frightful, he didn't want to believe it. All   
the attempts to block the pain the Mark caused from his mind were in vain. And now hiding was in vain as well.  
Dumbledore had asked him to return to the Dark Lord. He had said he was prepared, but he was not. To face that   
evil again, that overwhelming and disgusting power, and pledge his allegience to it - he couldn't face that. But he would.   
He would do it for Dumbledore, he would do it for the good of the wizarding world. It was what he had promised to do almost  
two decades ago, and he would not go back on that promise.   
  
-I watch the clock as the second hand goes slowly strolling by,  
I don't want to feel when a loved one's time has come to die...-  
  
He knew what would happen when he returned to claim his place among the followers of Voldemort. He would be forced   
to kill, most likely, and many would likely perish before the reign of darkness came to an end. Severus could only hope that  
he would be among the dead when that time finally came again.   
There was no way to disillusion himself anymore. If Voldemort did not discover his true loyalties, and if someone   
else did not kill him, when it was all over it would still be the same. He would not be respected. He may be praised for   
his noble efforts against the Darkness, but the number of people who praised him would be few. Dumbledore would most likely   
be the only one.   
The clock in his study room chimed the midnight hour, and as if an alarm clock had gone off, pain surged up his left   
arm. He grimaced and prepared himself for what he had to do. He rushed from his rooms, down the corridors to the cool air   
of the night. Using a long-since-used, but not forgotten, incantem a sleek white mask covered his face and a cool, light,   
black cloak concealed his body. He then apparated.  
  
-Cold feelings in the night, you know this feeling just ain't right,  
And though I try I just can't hide, cold feelings in the night...-  
  
When Severus arrived at his destination - he never knew exactly where he was headed - there was a circle of men and   
women dressed in the same fashion as him. They were practically indescernable from each other. The figure opposite him in   
the middle of the circle was, however, quite different.  
Severus remembered those red eyes all too well. Their depths were fathomless, but seemed shallowed. Evil, pure evil,  
was the only thing that shone in them. The nose was pressed flat against the skull, slits for nostrils like a snake. They   
flared out above the thin mouth as Severus appeared. A slow, disgusting smirk spread onto those lips.  
Without thinking twice, Severus threw himself to the feet of this vile man and kissed the hems of his robes. The   
first curse hit and pain surged through every muscle, bone, and fiber of Severus' body and soul. He forced himself not to   
fall to the ground or make any mention of the pain, overwhelming as it was. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain   
stopped. The man - if you could call him that - before Severus spoke.  
  
-Yeah, I got faith but sometimes I fear it just weighs too much,  
I don't want to feel, cold winds blowing through me with an icy touch...-  
  
"Severus," the smooth, chilling voice weakened his defenses immediately. "My loyal servent."  
"My lord," Severus choked out.  
"Why did you not come when I beckoned?"  
"Too many would have noticed my absence," Severus attempted to explain. "Although my loyalty to you is great, My Lord,  
I must not be suspected. It could have dire consequences."  
He heard himself saying these words, but he didn't want to believe it was him. He didn't want to believe any of this,   
he wanted to pretend it was just another nightmare. The evidence was harrowing, though, as the figure grasped his chin and   
pulled him from the ground. Severus dangled a few feet in the air before being set back down. The dark wizard was powerful,   
more powerful than Severus would have expected at such an early date.  
"You must prove your loyalty," the snake-like man hissed.  
Severus bowed his head in a gesture of respect. "Of course, My Lord, what do you wish of your servant?"  
An evil grin twisted on the lips of Voldemort. "Bring me the boy. He escaped me one too many times, it will not   
happen again."  
Severus nodded but his mind was reeling. Although he loathed the boy, Harry Potter seemed to be their only hope. He   
had shown courage - dumb courage, perhaps - mere hours ago and gotten away from the being that had killed his parents, once   
again. Without him, Severus feared of what would come. The Light would prevail, of this he was sure, but how many would   
die before it came to pass? The figures frightened him. Few were brave enough, dumb enough, and selfless enough to go up   
against the Dark Lord. They chose to hide away, thinking they were safe in their homes, or simply not believe it as Fudge   
had done.  
His thoughts were interrupted as the Cruciatus curse hit him again. He heard the high-pitched, blood curdling   
laughter and fought with all the energy inside him to stay put. As before, the pain lasted for moments - though they seemed   
like an eternity - and then it stopped suddenly. Severus forced his eyes to meet the red ones in front of him.  
"Yes, my Lord. I will bring him to you."  
"You may go," the creature hissed.  
Severus did not waste time in doing this. He apparated at once to the grounds just outside of Hogwarts and rushed   
towards the looming castle. He made his way to the dungeons once again, pondering to himself how he was going to pull this   
off. Dumbledore would want to speak to him soon, and he would want a plan of attack.  
  
-I wait for a warning, I wait for some kind of a sign,  
I try to seperate, try to seperate my body from my mind...-  
  
Snape could see no way out of his predicament as he climbed the steps to Dumbledore's office. The steps moved on   
their own, not needing to be climbed, but he did anyway. The discussion with Dumbledore was short, Severus gave him the   
facts and nothing else. He had no plans of attack. He had no ideas. He was helpless.  
Dumbledore dismissed him, looking quite sadder than he had in a long time. Severus returned to his study and resigned  
to a large armchair in front of the fire.   
"Bring me the boy," the cold voice haunted his mind. This could not be done. Severus had to go against the Dark   
Lord's orders - which normally would mean death. Somehow though, Severus doubted the demon would kill him. Torture seemed   
much more likely. Voldemort no doubt sensed the mental anguish of his follower, and how he wished for death. And he did not  
heed anyone's wishes.  
The only thing left to do was wait. Wait, and see how this all turned out. He couldn't go to Voldemort the next   
time he was called. Proving failure would not be pleasing to the Dark Lord. Snape sighed inwardly, and rose from his chair.  
He moved to a cupboard and retrieved a small vile of dark blue, almost purplish liquid. The draught would help him sleep,   
but as it only prevented dreams, Severus knew from experience that his memories would haunt him all night. And for the rest   
of his life, if not eternity.  
  
-Cold feelings in the night, you know these feelings just ain't right,  
And though I try I just can't hide, cold feelings in the night.- 


End file.
